


his poor, stupid heart

by kittymills



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, Shiro POV, injured keith, minor apperances by other characters, pining shiro, post blade of marmora episode, writing sprint attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 17:56:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13370094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittymills/pseuds/kittymills
Summary: "My tongue is well trained in the sit still. Its my hands that can’t keep a secret."— 	Sabrina Benaim, How to Unfold a Memory





	his poor, stupid heart

**Author's Note:**

> "Fix it Fic" for the end of the S3Ep8 Blade of Marmora Episode because it really bugged me how close to death Keith was that Red had to step up and then nary a few moments later he's just chillin' in his pally armour like nothing had happened. 
> 
> Then of course it turned into pining Shiro, oops.

\--

 

 ** _"My tongue is well trained in the sit still. Its my hands that can’t keep a secret."_ **  
**_-_ ** _Sabrina Benaim, How to Unfold a Memory_

 

_\--_

He’s propping Keith up with an arm around his waist, Keith’s booted feet dragging through the rubble as Shiro determinedly searches for his way to Keith’s lion.  Keith is breathing heavily, his chest rumbling ominously and streaks of red streaming down his face even as one eye is starting to swell shut. His jaw is starting to turn a sickly shade of black and Shiro wants to snarl at any of the blades who step too close in an abortive attempt to render assistance.

It’s too little too late.

As though in agreement, Red’s metal plates groan ominously as she shifts in place, lowering her head and opening her jaw in welcome. Keith murmurs something against Shiro’s neck, his breath hot and damp but Shiro doesn’t understand him.  He thinks he catches something about allies and Zarkon but Shiro is still too furious to indulge him.

It’s hard to understand him when his lips are so busted and the exhaustion is making it hard for him to breathe anyway.

Shiro pauses at the bottom of the lion’s stairway and glances down the battered figure at his side.  Keith is barely standing and it’s Shiro who is shouldering the bulk of his weight.  There’s little chance that Keith will be able to wobble his way up the lion’s gangway without help and it’s too narrow for them to walk side by side.

“Sorry, Keith,” he finally mutters and then he’s scooping Keith up into his arms bridal style.  It makes his stomach drop at the pained gasp that echoes out of Keith’s chest and the way Keith feels limp and weak like a rag doll in his arms. He gazes down at Keith for a moment, his head lolls against Shiro’s shoulder and his dark lashes rest against cheeks that are wan and pale. He turns to the shadows lurking behind them. 

“You want a ride off this rock, you can go into the cargo hold. Be grateful that the lion doesn’t rip you to shreds for what you’ve done.”

Shiro’s angry and fast running out of patience.  This entire mission had not gone anywhere near how he’d expected. He certainly hadn’t counted on Keith almost trying to get himself killed or Red tearing the world apart to get to him. Losing control over a situation was never something he tolerated happening although he couldn’t be sure if he was angry at Keith for his recklessness, the blade for their ridiculous trial, or himself for not hauling Keith’s ass out of there, alliance be damned, when he had the chance. It’s a tumultuous mix that churns in his gut and he needs to push it down inside him to focus.

He tries not to jostle Keith too much as he climbs the stairs, one heavy booted foot in front of the other.  Once inside, he turns towards the cockpit and steps through the opening without a backwards glance.  He lets the internal door slide shut with a quiet hiss and lock behind him. It wouldn’t be a comfortable ride back in Red’s belly but his care factor for the blades was very much at zero.  Now his only focus was on Keith and getting him home.

He slides into Red’s seat and cradles Keith gently in his arms, trying to be mindful of the worst looking wound on his shoulder. The bleeding as eased but the gash is so deep he knows that it desperately needs treatment. He realises belatedly that there is no way that Keith will be able to pilot his lion but just then Keith stirs and he reaches painfully for her controls from his position on Shiro’s lap.

“Keith-“ Shiro half protests as he sees the sheer effort it takes Keith to wrap his swollen fingers around her stick. “Keith, you can’t-“

He casts his mind back to when Keith saved him in Black.  Keith said he’d appealed to Black’s bond with Shiro to save him, he hoped he could do the same with Red.  She is flighty, untameable but then so is Keith.  Maybe Shiro has a way with creatures like that.  He holds back the urge to run a smoothing palm over Keith’s hair and his hands feel like they tremble slightly with the effort.

Before he can say anything, Keith whispers _take us home, Red_ and then the lion is drawing herself up and the view outside the cockpit changes from crushed rock to the wide expanse of the stars.  He feels her vibrate with a final roar as she launches herself off the crumbling base.

Red is essentially on autopilot but Shiro keeps an eye on her readouts just the same. It’s really just an attempt to take his mind off Keith’s raspy breathing and Shiro’s urge to hold Keith closer, to bring him in tighter against his chest and to brush his lips over Keith’s brow. He wishes he could order his heart to stand down it’s furious beat but it doesn’t want to listen.

There had been a horrifying second there that Shiro was scared that Keith might not make it.  He’d never felt an all-consuming kind of terror like that, not even facing down Zarkon’s hideous creatures in the arena in front of a million Galra.  He didn’t care if he himself died but… Not Keith, never Keith. He had the capacity to endure so much but… not _that._

An usually difficult rasp catches in Keith’s throat and he coughs a little, then moans in pain at the effort. It’s a horrifying sound and Shiro has to close his eyes and bite his lip against the distress it causes him. Keith slumps a little more against him and Shiro’s tenuous grip on his control slips. He’s aware of his head tilting down, his nose brushing against Keith’s blood stained dark hair, the warmth of his sweat still lurking on the back of his neck.  He shouldn’t be this close, he shouldn’t be doing this.  He was using Keith’s battered state to fuel his own desperate fantasies.  He curses himself on the inside just as his lips form soothing words for Keith’s ears alone.  Keith’s small frame shudders and he turned his face slightly, placing his lips just inches away from Shiro’s exposed jaw.

He knows he shouldn’t but he brushes a hand down Keith’s back, trying not to read too much into the way Keith seems to lean a little heavier into him and let loose a soft little sigh.  His limbs soften in the smallest way and Shiro hopes that the pain relief administered from his suit was finally kicking in. 

He closes his eyes and Kolivan’s words replay _.  Right now, your friend desperately wants to see you._

Did Keith know how much Shiro had wanted to jump in there to stop the simulation, to stop the trial? Did he know how much it _fucking_ killed Shiro inside to see every blow and clang of that knife against each blade.

Did Keith know how goddamn proud Shiro was of him when he slid across the floor and leapt into that gap in the floor with a smirk on his lips Shiro hadn’t seen in years?

It takes everything he has not to bury his face in Keith’s hair.  _Keith, Keith, Keith._

His heart is beating his name out like a mantra and it hurts.

There’s a sudden burst of static and then the comms come online. He realises it’s the castleship hailing them and he flips a switch that he anticipates is for communications. It’s where it would be had he been piloting Black and surely the controls couldn’t be too different in each of the lions. At least that’s what he hopes.

“Princess,” he says, hoping that she hears him. “We’re coming back and we brought someone you should meet.”

\--

 

They’re all waiting in Red’s hangar when she touches down.  Shiro waits until she’s lowered her jaw again and he inches his hips along the pilot seat ever so gently.  He’s still cradling Keith securely as he climbs to his feet.  The door to the cockpit opens on its own accord and on the other side, the blades are already waiting.

The flight back had given him a modicum of time to calm down, or maybe it was just those long moments of having Keith curled against him, his breathing evening out each time Shiro rubbed his back or whispered nonsense against his ear. 

He gave them a final glance before taking the lead and walking down the gangway, Keith still slumped against his chest.

He sees the confusion on his teams faces, the shocked expression as they glance from the galra rebels in their dark suits to the dark suited figure in Shiro’s arms.  He sees the exact moment that they realise that figure Shiro is carrying is Keith and there’s a cacophony of voices that ring out.

_“What happened?”_

_“Is that Keith?”_

_“Is he okay?”_

But it’s Coran that leaps to the front and peers intently into Keith’s face. “Holy quiznackles, he’s hurt badly, we need to get him to a pod!”

Shiro glances at Allura and her eyes are flicking from the blades to Keith and then back again and even he can see how tight her jaw is clenched from where he stands.  He catches her eye and gives a slight shake of her head.  She doesn’t relax, but her hard stare settles into something a fraction gentler.

“I’ll get him to the cyropods, a few hours in there and he will be right as your earthside rain,” Coran says with forced cheer.  His hands loom towards Keith and Shiro has to restrain himself from snatching Keith away.  Keith weighs nothing in his arms, but even if he did, Shiro wasn’t inclined to let Keith go for even a second.

“No-“ Keith stirs and his protest is harsh on his tongue.  He almost thrashes until Shiro talks him down.  “Not the pods,” Keith shudders again.

Coran flounders for a moment, unable to grasp Keith’s aversion to the pods. He looks at Keith hopelessly then slumps.  His shoulders roll forward in dismay and there is a minute part of Shiro that feels bad that he wasn’t about to let Coran slip into his mother hen mode but he’s too focused on Keith.

“I’ll look after Keith,” Shiro says and he immediately feels a spark of disapproval from Allura.  He should feel bad he supposes, but he’s just brought a handful of galra onto her ship and the last time that happened she could barely bring herself to look at him for a week so either way she’s going to be pissed. He knows she can handle it this time around though. Between herself and Coran, the blades will be occupied enough. “You stay here with Allura and our new… allies.”

Everyone looks over at the blades.  It’s hard to read them, even if their faces hadn’t been uncovered, the only galra he had ever encountered during his captivity had mastered the art of a poker face. He could never read if they were there to help or hinder him.  It was usually the later in his case.

The tallest masked galra drops to his knees at Allura’s feet, one fist held across his chest as he respectfully honours her.  Allura’s face is harsh but she swallows her trepidation to at least will herself to listen to what the blades had to say.

Hunk choses that moment to come to his side and Shiro can see him watching Keith worriedly.  “Need help?” he asks quietly, his eyes scanning over Keith’s prone form intently.  Shiro is grateful for the offer but he feels that he needs to insist that this is his responsibility alone. 

“I’m good. I’m going to take him to his room.”  He jerks his head towards Allura and the small blades contingent.  He can’t be sure but it seems as though Allura has morphed herself subtly taller. He doesn’t blame her. “Make sure they don’t kill each other until I get back.”

Without so much of a second glance at the galra on one side of the room and the paladins on the other, Shiro’s grip on Keith tightens and he heads off.   

\--

Keith hadn’t made a sound the entire trek to the hallway that held all the paladin’s rooms.  It made Shiro far too anxious and he would have been lying to himself if he didn’t pause on one or two occasions to make sure Keith was still actually breathing. He didn’t quite understand why Keith would rather weather the pain like this than slip into a cyropod to heal but then Shiro remembers the nightmares that haunted him when it had been his own turn.  He couldn’t blame Keith for wanting to keep his distance, not really.  He’d already been through enough trauma and hallucinations today as it was.

He marches straight past Keith’s room and towards his own. 

“You went past it,” Keith rasps out.  Trying to talk makes him cough again and the effort makes him groan low in his gut. It’s an awful sound that makes Shiro harden his resolve.  He grits his teeth.

“I know,” Shiro answers. He keeps walking determinedly until he reaches his own doorway and it opens then slides shut behind them with a hiss.  As soon as the lock engages, some of the tension eases out of his shoulders.  There’s only a handful of steps before he’s standing by the bed.

“Going to put you on the bed now, okay?” he says quietly, but not so quiet as so Keith would have trouble understanding him.  The last thing he wants to do is to jostle Keith any more than he has to.

He’s gentle as he does it, laying Keith backwards onto his smooth sheets and a faded vision beats behind his eyes.  Lying Keith down against the soft pillows, Keith whole and smiling up at him and whispering his name- maybe in another reality that wasn’t trying to sap everything they cared away from them.  He hopes there is a version of themselves out there somewhere where perhaps Shiro never went to Kerberos and he and Keith are married with a couple of cats and living a mundane, ordinary life.

It stings to think of that, the possibilities their lives could have had. If he’d never accepted that assignment to Kerberos.  They would have had more time, Shiro would have had more time to show Keith that they could be good together, to be happy-

He swallows back a lump in his throat as he pushes that imagery away.  It hurts too much to dwell on and as he runs his gaze over Keith’s pale face, he remembers there’s no guarantee that Keith loves him quite the same.

What was it he said? _Like a brother to me._

He stares down at Keith a moment longer with all the love beating around inside him he’s never allowed himself to share. That he probably never will now that the fate of the universe was bigger and the ache of his poor, stupid heart.  It pangs horribly and the pain of an entirely different kind to what Keith was currently enduring rushed through his chest.  It’s selfish but he can’t hold back any longer and he reaches out to smooth Keith’s hair back away from his face and Keith’s body trembles in response.

He would have been able to give anything to lay Keith down onto his bed and against these sheets like this in a completely different scenario but Shiro of all people knew you can’t always have what you want. He had Keith in his life, beaten, weakened but alive and he tried to convince himself that it’s enough. 

Keith’s eyelids flutter weakly as Shiro moves him, as though he is trying to open them to see his surroundings but then he’s still, just his breathing crackling softly in his chest.  Shiro makes sure he’s comfortable- well, as much as he could be as injured as he was – with an extra pain relief shot to dull the worse of the pain.  Not for the first time, he wonders briefly what was in Keith’s dreams that had him preferring to suffer through this agony rather than face the suspended time in the pods and heal.  What did he see in that dreamscape?

Shiro watches him for another tick longer then forces himself to tear his gaze away and slip into the bathroom.  He returns with a bowl of warm water and a soft towel and wonders abruptly how he’s going to get the blade suit away from Keith’s form enough to clean away the blood.

“Keith,” he whispers his name softly.  “Keith,” he says it again, this time slightly louder and Keith’s eyes flutter open.  “I hate to ask this but I may need you to help me with this,” he gestures towards the suit and he waits for the few extra beats it takes for the understanding to dawn in Keith’s eyes.

“Cut it off,” he croaks roughly and Shiro is almost relived because that would be easy enough to do. More so than trying to contort Keith’s battled limbs.  He takes the Marmora blade at Keith’s hip since it’s the closest blade he has and stares down at the figure sprawled on his sheets.  The suit was unlike anything he’d seen, more supple and fine than their paladin armour but as though threaded with steel to provide it with an impressive strength.  He hopes the blade would be strong enough to slice though it but then his eyes flick to the gash in Keith’s shoulder and decides the that’s the best place to start.

He kneels gingerly beside Keith on the bed, conscious of his weight jostling the mattress too much but Keith doesn’t seem to notice.  He’s plucking at a handful of seals on his side and hip but his limbs are too weak and he can hardly reach so Shiro reaches out to help him. 

It’s agonisingly slow work and every time Keith’s breath hitches in pain, Shiro has to stop and breathe through his nose at the thought of causing Keith anymore discomfort.  This isn’t how his fantasies of undressing Keith in this room went in his mind, he thinks to himself sardonically then he’s angry at himself for letting his mind wander into that forbidden territory once again.  Another flash of anger at the blades wash over him but then the suit is finally pulled away and Keith is there in nothing but a cloak of mottled bruises over his skin and black briefs.

“God, Keith,” he hitches out.  He hopes Keith puts the tremor in his voice down to the bruising, and not down to the fact that in spite of the discolouration over his skin, he’s the most breathtaking thing Shiro has ever seen and it _kills_ him.

“Bad?” Keith croaks and shifts.  When Shiro turns to him, he’s startled to realise that Keith has been watching him, god knows how long for.  Did Shiro’s feelings show in his face? Did Keith read the twisted desire Shiro harboured?

Because it was, Shiro told himself.  Keith was injured, traumatised, probably on the verge of shock and all Shiro could think about was how much he wanted to stroke the length of his limbs and kiss away every one of his bruises as though just the love he held inside himself would be enough to heal the man in front of him.

He forces himself to turn away, busying his hands with dampening the washcloth and then using it to gently wipe away the blood on Keith’s face.  He steadfastly avoids looking at Keith’s eyes, concentrating on the movement of his hands and it surprises him how intimate it feels.  His hands are large compared to Keith’s face, and after a moment, he can’t help but flick his gaze towards Keith’s and then he’s trapped in the glow of those indigo orbs.

“History repeats, huh?” Keith whispers and Shiro is immediately thrown back into a memory.  Keith’s first week at the Garrison and he’d been jumped by some nasty seniors who seemed to think his phenomenal flying in the sims was the result of cheating.  Shiro had been disgusted by the treatment and campaign hard to have them expelled even when Keith tried to make him promise to let it go.

Shiro had loved him even back then.

He pauses only long enough to refresh the water in the bowl, and rinse out the cloth.  He watches the red swirl and drain away, trying to avoid his own shameful reflection in the mirror. This time he moved his ministrations down to Keith’s shoulder, careful of his wound.

He wanted nothing more than to press his lips to Keith’s pale chest. It would be funny if it wasn’t so heartbreaking that with all the years that had passed, all the adventures they had had – nothing has really changed.  Shiro still carried his love for Keith around in a tight little space in his heart.  They are friends, he reminds himself sternly. Nothing more.

_Don’t make it weird, Shirogane._

Even with the worst of the blood was washed away, it didn’t seem like enough.  Shiro starts to doubt his wisdom of following Keith’s wishes and avoiding the pods – he would look a hundred times worse tomorrow.  Was it selfish by bringing him here and tending to him himself instead? Probably.

Keith’s eyes are utterly black with exhaustion. It takes all he can not to lean down and brush his lips against Keith’s.  Instead, he smooths Keith’s dark strands away and tries to summon up a friendly smile. “You should get some rest, okay.  Let your body heal.”

He’s surprised when Keith’s hand crawls along the sheet to pluck weakly at the material of his thigh.  He’s not sure if that’s the spot that Keith was aiming for but the touch is enough to send sparks though his body and he hates himself for it.  “Can.. can you stay?”

Shiro sucks in a breath.  He knows the others would be waiting for him, waiting for the introduction from the blade to Allura and he feels the weight of responsibility heavy like a mantle on his shoulders.

He opens his mouth to answer but Keith beats him to it.  ‘I know, I know, duty first,’ he says wearily. Then he adds as an afterthought, ‘I’ll be okay.’

Before Shiro has the chance to say much else, Keith rolls over.  His eyes are closed and his breathing settles into deep even breaths, already sounding clearer than from moments before and Shiro realises he is asleep.

It sends a pang through his chest Shiro wants nothing more to crawl in beside him but he pulls himself away. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he says softly as he dims the lights. 

\--

The introductions go smoother than he expects but there’s still a multitude of tension in the air from the team as they regard the galra rebels from the other side of the galaxy map. Shiro gives them a brief rundown of what happened and there’s a few exclamations around the room. He leaves out the part about the Galra heritage though, he’s not sure if Keith is comfortable sharing that information yet.  He can feel Kolivan’s eyes on him but he chooses to ignore it.

It’s almost three hours later by the time he can escape back into his room where he knows Keith waits.  The room is brighter than he left it and he realises that Keith must have woken and showered while Shiro was away because he’s perched on the edge of Shiro’s bed shirtless with his hair damp. 

“How are you feeling?”

Keith grunts.  It doesn’t have much force, it sounds weak to Shiro’s ears.  “Sore. Tired.  I was going to go back to my room but I can’t seem to find the energy.”

Keith tries to smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes and he gives up.  He slumps forward slightly, bracing his wrists on his knees and letting his hair fall forward to shield his eyes.  Despite his obvious exhaustion, he’s still tense and Shiro thinks he understands why.

If he lets Keith escape to his own room now, they may never have this moment again. The memory of the blade transforming in Keith’s hand replays in his mind, the look of awe and shock on his face as he grips it… Then Kolivan’s words about galra blood in his veins.

He wonders if Keith is going to embrace that knowledge or use it as further fuel to self-destruct.

“Then don’t,” Shiro says flatly.  He tries to ignore the little voice in his head that ugly laughs and calls him weak, and a liar.  He wants just wants to be in Keith’s orbit.  It’s all he’s ever wanted.  “Stay here.”

There was more he wanted to say but in this… Yes, he was a coward.

Keith looks up at him and Shiro can’t quite tell if it’s just the bruising or something else, but Keith’s expression unreadable.  “Are you… are you sure? I’m… different-”

Shiro can’t control the frown that mars his features.  He shakes his head in denial.  “No. No you’re not. Some magical blade doesn’t change who you are. You’re Keith, you’ll always be Keith-”

_And I love you._

For a heartbeat, there’s only silence and Shiro is briefly terrified that perhaps he said the last part out loud but then Keith is chewing on his lip and Shiro wants to reprimand him from doing it lest his split lip starts to bleed again.

“O… okay.” 

Shiro shouldn’t have been as nervous as he was as sliding into the sheets a short time later. It wasn’t like he and Keith hadn’t bunked together a hundred times together before.  But somehow this felt a little different and it had nothing to do with the blade reveal and everything to do with Shiro’s traitorous heart. 

He holds himself rigid in the narrow bed, mindful not to bump or jostle Keith but then Keith’s shoulders shudder and any concern for his own discomfort disappears.  He rolls carefully to his side and daringly splays his galra hand against Keith’s hip gently.

“We’re both part galra,” he says softly and Keith’s breath hitches.

It’s hard to shuffle on the bed with such limited movement but somehow Keith pushes through the pain, each grunt catching Shiro guilty in his throat.  And then Keith is pressed close against him, his head tucked under Shiro’s chin and his hair impossibly soft against his jaw.

There would be time enough later to digest what it all means and in the meantime, he runs his hands in soothing circles over Keith’s back as the room light dims and they both slip into sleep.  

 


End file.
